


Pictures of You

by bloominsummer



Series: The World for You [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9638549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: Justin needs and wants to fulfill his artistic integrity without setting Brian off. Is it even possible?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters or plot, they belong to the creators of Queer as Folk, this work is purely a fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> This fic was based on the prompt: "The truth is, I've met someone else."

Justin makes his way home from the small closet space he’s rented and now calls a studio, zipping up his jacket as the wind blows his hair everywhere. He instantly regrets not bringing a beanie with him because he will end up looking like the survivor of a hurricane by the time he gets back to the sanctuary of the loft. The walk is always short but nice, as Pittsburgh at 2AM is less hectic, like the city is sleeping idyllically with only a few hums of motor vehicles filling the silence of the night.  

Brian would usually already be sleeping by this hour, Justin thinks. He rarely stays up late on weekdays, which is understandable as Kinnetik’s expanding business and crazy schedule has had him on a tight leash for the last couple of months, making him take spontaneous trips for days at a time to some city and night visits to the office when someone, or more precisely that _goddamn new art director, Riley,_ fucks up the board and in the end has the client grilling Brian for more changes and extra touches at wee hours of the night.

Justin retrieves his keys from his jacket pocket and slowly unlocks the metal door of the loft, hoping it doesn’t make a sound that will wake Brian up, he would hate to do anything that disturbs his lover’s rest. He notes that the most of the lights are already turned off, supporting his theory that Brian’s already asleep. He makes his way to the bed and started taking his clothes off, layers by layers, tired and worn-out, wanting only to crawl under the duvet and snuggles up close to Brian to share his warmth and inhale the scent that Justin loves so much. A mixture of Armani cologne and some expensive imported aftershave which he has linked to his partner for so long that it has become identical to him.

Halfway through undoing his pants, though, Justin gets a feeling like he’s being watched. He turns to look at Brian and sees him staring right back, but the characteristic heavy lidded eyes he usually sports when he just woke up is not there. Has he been awake all this time?

“Hey, you,” Justin says. 

He discards his pants on to the floor and pulls back the covers to let himself into Brian’s space. Brian doesn’t reply, but he lifts his hand up and lets Justin nuzzles his neck and settles into the crook, sighing contentedly. There’s a question that hangs in the air begging to be spoken out loud although Brian won’t if he doesn’t have to, so Justin offers his explanation, or what he could tell Brian at this point, instead.

“Sorry I was late. I know you’d like to go home to your little wife waiting and begging to be taken after a long day at work, but I’m still on for curfew.”

“There’s nothing little about you, Justin,” Brian replies playfully.

“Why are you awake? Something happened at work?”

“Nothing besides goddamn Riley making unnecessary tweaks on the Eyeconics board again. She just couldn’t keep the fucking font per requested, it’s not according to her artistic integrity, she said.”

This is probably the tenth time Brian has complained about Riley during this week alone, and it’s only Tuesday. Justin might need to step in and slap some sense into her sometime this week, because she’s driving Brian crazy which by the law of domino effect, means that Justin is also affected. Stress is contagious.

“You should really fire her if she’s making so much trouble,” he suggests.

“Having no art director would be a bigger pain in the ass for me.”

Justin knows for a fact how even more stressful that can be after their last art director got engaged with his rich-ass philanthropist boyfriend and decided to stop pursuing a career for now. Adam had quit which as little notice as he could get away with, leaving really large shoes to be filled in. For a couple of weeks, Justin even had to step in and coordinate the team. 

“Pain in the ass. Hm.. and not the good kind?”

“And not the good kind,” Brian confirms.

“Did something else happen?”

Maybe Justin’s reading too much into this but he thinks that Brian being awake at this hour had very little to do with the fact that Riley is a stubborn young woman. There might be other things on his mind, so Justin tries to thread lightly, making sure he doesn’t scare Brian off from saying what he needs to say.

“No. It’s just, I’ve barely seen you this past month, I usually go to work before you wake up and I realised you’ve been getting home later than me. A bit worried, that’s all. Maybe you can tell me where you’re at, next time?”

Justin tries to compose himself before telling a lie, making sure at least he put some effort into it. Otherwise, Brian would call his suspicious attitude right here and right now which means it’s only a matter of minutes before he gives in and tells Brian everything.

“I went to Daphne’s, she’s constantly bitching about how we don’t spend enough together and complaining about her co-workers at the hospital. Can you believe it? It’s like she’s living in a medical drama soap opera. Like, Grey’s Anatomy or Private Practice shit, you know. Also, did you really just tell me you’re worried about me? The Great Brian Kinney, worried? Are you high? What did you take? Please, keep taking it.”

“You little twat,” he replies affectionately.

“You love it.”

Posing a theatric sigh, Brian says, “Unfortunately, you’ve become that tolerable pain in my ass.”

"The good kind?”

“Definitely the good kind. Now go to sleep. There was a message on the landline for you when I got back, your manager, what’s her name again? She called, said she couldn’t reach your cell. You have a meeting with a gallery downtown tomorrow, lunch time.”

God, Diane is going to set Brian’s alarm off on this whole thing if she keeps calling the loft. Justin makes a mental note to himself to scold her tomorrow and then ask her, more politely this time, to always call his cellphone but not to bother him while he’s working.

“You know her name, Brian. Just because she disagrees with you and you with her existence doesn’t mean you can’t be civilised towards her for the sake of little ol' me, she’s been doing a fantastic job this couple of years. I got three showings in the last year and enough commissions to make my tuition fee instalments to you and make a living for myself, so that I don’t have to leech off my sugar daddy’s money.”

Their relationship is nowhere near perfect, and sometimes when they get into fights, Justin would go on an artist block for weeks even after they’ve made up. Diane always thinks Justin should only be with a person who worships the ground he walks on because he’s _the next Andy Warhol, if you can just be inspired without any disturbances_ , so naturally she disproves of Brian’s antics. 

“Bullshit. Kinnetik’s 51% yours. It’s your money more than it’s mine. Also, fine, I’ll call her Diane.”

Ah, yes. The infamous 51%. Brian had successfully convinced Justin that it’s only reasonable. If he owns more of Kinnetik than Brian does, then he will still have a firm hold of the company if anything is to happen to Brian. Brian writes Gus to have the other 49% in his will. Justin only vaguely remembers agreeing to this, yet he has a very vivid memory of what Brian did to get him to agree, which included a mind blowing rim job.

“Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning, or whenever I do. It’s only time,” he adds the last bit playfully, knowing fully well he’s playing Brian’s own words against him.

* * *

 

They do see each other the next morning, as Brian uncharacteristically stays in until Justin has to leave for his meeting. He makes Justin coffee and toast, brings it to him on the bed, to which Justin flashes his signature Sunshine smile and pulls Brian in for a long kiss which ended in a slow morning fuck. He even drives him to Diane’s office, which happens to be on the opposite direction of Kinnetik, before going to work. 

Justin scolds Diane as he had promised himself but only receives a shrug and a ‘ _Don’t worry, he’s too dense to notice anything, Justin.’_ in reply, as if that’s going to ease his mind from the thought of Brian finding out before he’s finished.

They went to meet the gallery owner who’s a young woman that appears bouncy and enthusiastic like a child released on a trampoline park, but she’s quick and sharp when they start to talk about Justin’s art and the possibility of having a showing in her gallery. She asks him what he’s been up to, and Justin tells her. 

Hours later, Justin waves goodbye to Diane as they went their separate ways.

“Don’t call the loft again!” he shouts from ten feet away. Diane turns to look back at him.

“Jesus, I understand the first twenty times you said it. All right, all right.”

“I’m serious!”

“I know! I don’t want you on another slump if you get into a fight because of this. Bye!” 

Justin is still walking backwards, staring at Diane’s retreating back as his phone buzzes in his pocket. His eyes light up at the caller ID.

“Hey, where are you?” came the voice that he hopes he never has to live a day without hearing.

“Just finished my meeting with the gallery owner,” he says, “You at work?”

“You sat down and talk for 3 hours with her and Diane? How are you not bore the hell out of your minds talking about some dead guy who happens find a canvas and swipe a paint brush across it once in his life?”

At least he uses her name, Justin notes. Brian’s getting worse at giving Justin shit because he knows Brian has been through many of his showings spending way more than 3 hours each talking about art with some nice people and then some art critiques who has their head so far up their asses without complaining. Justin always compensates his time and patience with hot, passionate sex afterwards.

“Your appreciation for art is really just restricted to fine, brooding, chiseled men, isn’t it?” he can’t help but laugh.

“Not so much nowadays, since you’ve become my ball and chain. I’m still in for aesthetic, however, and not abstractness. Are you free right now? I have a clear afternoon but I could probably spend a couple of hours with you here looking through the latest boards for Brown Athletics.”

There’s tiredness in his voice, although telling Brian to call it an evening and just come home would be a waste of time and energy so Justin compromises with himself even if he can’t spend his afternoon the way he wants to, he’ll spend it with Brian.

“You have a clear afternoon and instead of taking me out on a romantic getaway, you want me to come and freelance for you?”

“I always want you to come, again and again. The freelance part is optional, as always.”

Justin flushes at the seductive tone his partner uses, not surprised that as usual, Brian will fight dirty to get what he wants.

“Brian! Fine, do you want anything to eat? I can get you something. A muffin for breakfast this morning only goes to show how little regard you have for the most important meal of the day.”

"Thanks for the public service announcement. Sure, some Chinese takeouts, maybe?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t you want to know what I want?” Brian asks, as if he’s going to suddenly change his usual order, the only one he’s ever made, from his favourite place. Justin just smiles to himself.

“I always know what you want.”

“That, you do,” comes the reply.

* * *

Justin steals the last shrimp roll from Brian’s box as he looks through the latest boards. 

“I think white on black instead of black on white? It would pop out better,” Justin advises.

Brian stares at him for a moment before he closes the empty takeout boxes and avert his gaze at the boards. Justin waits while the gears are turning in Brian’s head as he tries to get an image of what the altered boards will look like. After a minute, he looks back at Justin.

“Ah. My little genius.”

“Isn’t that why you keep me around so long?”

“Definitely, your creativity comes second only to your ass. You know, you could always just take a break from painting and work as the art director here, again.”

Seems like they’re already due for another debate at this topic.

“I told you that one time was only because it needed to be done,” he says carefully, not wanting to tick Brian off.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t do an amazing job at it.”

“No, but doing it again means that I will be getting paid with my own money for doing my duties as a partner at this company. I can always help for free, like what I’m doing right now.” 

It’s a monotone answer, like Justin has been practicing this speech for moments like this, which might or might not be true.

“So now that it could benefit you in a way, it’s suddenly your money,” Brian replies, stepping away from Justin.

“That’s not what I meant,” he takes a step closer because it’s physically painful to be away from Brian, especially if he’s hurting. He put his hands on either side of Brian’s face and caresses his cheek, tiptoes to put his arms around Brian, peppering kisses on his neck. He holds his partner’s chin to turn Brian’s head so that he’ll look at him. They share a look, then Brian is leaning in to kiss him, and the argument is done for another two months, at least.

“I know, I know. I don’t have to take care of you all the time, you’re a big boy who wants to find his own way, bla bla. How was the meeting with the gallery owner anyway?”

“But hey, thank you for offering. As for the gallery owner.. um, she’s pretty interested with this project I’m working on right now. She actually offered me a solo show once it’s done. Of course I will need to make other additional pieces for showing besides the project.”

“Well, you’ve made a name for yourself here and in New York, I wouldn’t be surprised if I were you. Actually, I’m not surprised at all. I haven’t seen you paint in awhile though, or else we would have had a chat about getting paint on the hardwood again. So, what project is this?”

“Nothing big yet, just a side project. The concept isn’t even done.”

Brian raises an eyebrow at him while Justin mentally slaps his own forehead. Lie better next time, Taylor.

“And already she’s offering to show it? Must be a fucking great non-concept.”

Justin is now halfway into a full panic mode because if Brian pushes, his resolve will definitely crumble right now _. Okay, distract him now. Comment on anything. The boards. The boards!_

“Yeah. Bri, this model for the underwear ad, I’m not sure he’s going to sell many underwear but I’m sure he’s going to sell a lot of tissues and lubricants.”

“Who the hell says lubricants? It’s lube, Justin.”

Mission accomplished, nothing can distract Brian better than anything related to sex.

“Only you would be so uptight about the fact that I say things the right way.”

“I am only tight because you haven’t been up there for some time.”

Justin wants to laugh, because just like that, he’s not the one during the distracting anymore. He sagaciously decides against it. If Brian’s being serious, it’s a chance Justin does not want to miss because he chooses to laugh at the wrong moment.

“Are you actually offering?”

The question comes out a bit eager than intended, but who can blame him for that? The prospect of having his dick buried in Brian’s ass never fails to get Justin all hot and bothered.

Brian smirks at him. “Maybe. Hypothetically, what would you say to the offer if I am?”

“Hypothetically, I would say that I’d love to visit you up there and play hide and seek with your prostate,” Justin states, playing along.

“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged. My prostate misses you,” Brian says as he cleans up the boards and put them back neatly on his table, before throwing Justin his coat and cocking his head towards the exit, motioning Justin to follow him.

* * *

 

The layers of clothes Justin has been wearing magically disappears the moment he steps into the darkness of the loft. Brian walks backward as they kiss their way across the space, somehow managing not to fall flat on Brian’s back. Justin stumbles on his way up the stairs but thanks to Brian’s guiding hands and arms and mouth, always on him, he stays up.  

Their pace slowed as Brian pulls him on top of his own body and licks his ear. Justin kisses his lips and travels down to kiss his chest, stomach, and then navel. He stops to hover just above Brian’s cock, receiving a grunt and a look in protest. He looks up and sees Brian propped up on his elbows, waiting.

“Remember when you told me not to ever let anyone fuck me raw?” Justin asks.

“So?” 

Ah, the impatience is crystal clear.

“So, you should take your own advice.”

“I’ll take yours instead. You’re not just anyone.” He gazes at Justin, the _now fuck me, please_ goes without saying.

Justin’s heart is soaring from the words, which makes him want to make his way up again to kiss Brian but compromises with biting the inner of his thigh instead. He hears Brian’s head hitting the pillow following his sharp inhale, so he licks the reddened skin and kisses him right there. He moves to travel the length of the already-hard cock in front of him with his tongue before licking the precum off the tip. Justin proceeds to swallow Brian’s cock while entering one finger up his ass to open him up.

Brian’s already out of breath by the time Justin slips inside him, so when his orgasm arrives fast, reducing him to a convulsing mess, he’s not all that surprised. Justin turns him on his stomach shortly after he pulls out, because this is the part of fucking Brian that has become his favourite thing since they’ve been doing it raw. He sees his come oozing out of Brian’s magnificent hole and almost comes again just from the view. He bends to lick Brian clean and makes his way up, dropping his head on the pillow.

He doesn’t know why, but the sex they have with him fucking Brian is always more intimate, closer to making love than having sex. Maybe it’s because it’s never rough, as Brian rarely have anything up his ass and it’s pleasingly tight up there that roughing it up would be uncomfortable for both of them. Maybe it’s because Brian’s always on his back, so Justin’s always looking at Brian’s face when it contorts with pleasure seconds before he comes. Maybe it’s because it’s these moments when Justin realises Brian is saying I love you without saying it, is letting himself be vulnerable around him, is letting his wall down. Maybe it’s all of the above.

Brian spoons him once they’re done, laying there all sticky and sweaty but sated. Justin turns around and kisses him softly, playing with his hair.

“I love you, Brian.”

Brian just hums in return. 

* * *

 

Brian calls Daphne on a Monday. Justin burns himself a little earlier in morning trying to cook some eggs and Brian decides that he’s had enough of his Sunshine coming home late for the sake of hearing Daphne’s complaints, no matter how fond he’s grown of the girl over the years. He doesn’t even bother to say hi when she picks up.

“Do you mind not taking all of Justin’s nights to tend to your needs? Why don’t you ever take night shifts in the hospital anyway?” 

Brian can’t help that he sounds irritated, he can always apologise later.

_ “Hello to you too, Brian. Also, what?” _

How dare she pretends like she doesn’t have a clue what Brian’s saying?

“Daphne, he’s been over at your place until midnight, sometimes even longer than that for seven days straight. Don’t _you_ need sleep?”

_ “Oh. Ohh. Yeah, about that.” _

There’s something off about Daphne’s tone, but Brian can’t get a look at her expression to actually decide whether she’s hiding something, so he lets it go for now. 

“Yeah, about that. He’s walking around like the dead in the morning and now he has burn marks to prove just how overwhelmed he is.”

_ “Shit! Is he alright?” _

“Nothing major, I iced it immediately. Daph! That’s besides the point.”

He gets only silence from the other side and waits. Daphne gives a long, dramatic sigh he’s inclined to hang up right now so that he doesn’t have to listen to her bitching about her job.

_ “I’m sorry, it’s just the work’s killing me and I need my best friend however and whenever I can get him. He never says anything about being tired and I thought, you know, as an artist, that his working hours are very flexible, meaning he can still actually get 8 hours a night.” _

“That’s unlike you,” Brian notes.

_ “What do you mean?” _

“You know him too damn well to know he’s not going to say anything to make you feel bad about wanting him there, but you can usually see through it anyway.”

They both know what Brian’s saying is true. Daphne pauses for a bit before answering.

_ “You’re right, maybe I just don’t want to because I want him to stay, and I’m wrong for that. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” _

“Okay,” he says.

_ “Okay.” _

“Sorry for earlier.”

_ “Aren’t you the one who usually says sorry’s bullshit? Anyway, I get that you love your honey boo boo so much that you think I need a good scolding.” _

What this girl needs is some reality check, along with good strangling and strapping, Brian thinks. Honey boo boo? Fuck her.

“I’m hanging up now.”

_ “Love you too, Brian.” _

He hangs up, smiling at his phone.

* * *

 

Justin is sipping his coffee and listening to Daphne telling him about Brian’s call, taking a break from painting one of the last panels. 

“You should tell him, you know. He deserves to know,” she says, picking up one of the earlier set and tracing the dry paint with her fingers.

“Yeah, as soon as I finish. Actually, I think I might even finish this week. But I can’t tell him. Not yet,” he insists.

“Why not let him see through the process with you again? You’re letting me, right now.”

“I can’t keep both of you out in the dark forever, I’m a shitty liar and it won’t work quite as well. I need you to cover for me when it’s required, anyway.”

That’s true, avoiding Brian is hard, avoiding Daphne would prove quite as challenging, but avoiding both of them at the same time would have been mission impossible. It’s also because he thinks that Daphne will react more rationally towards what he’s doing than Brian.

“Justin, this is beautiful. Breathtakingly painful but at the same time, it’s a work of art. And, it’s personal. It’s personal to you, so it shows on the canvas, and you’re making me feel it too, the regret, the hopelessness, the _anguish_. Maybe it’s because I’m closely related to.. this, although I wasn’t there, yet the full effect of this hits me like a train anyway. He’ll love it.”

Exactly, Justin thinks. Daphne wasn’t there. Brian on the other hand, was, in every way that matters. 

“You don’t know that,” he can see Daphne’s looking at him like she knows he’s doubting himself, which is not fully inaccurate.

“He’ll love it, because he loves you. And he will forgive you for keeping this to yourself, and accept you, and accept this.”

“Really, Daphne. You don’t know that,” he says again, stubbornly.

“There are some things I’m always right about. You and Brian, together, is one of them. You can’t deny it, Justin.”

“I’m not denying your prior knowledge and psychic abilities but his reaction to all of this is unpredictable. It’s a big thing for us. It’s a big thing for him. I couldn’t imagine if our roles were reversed. Maybe that’s also why I’ve been putting it off to tell him. I’m afraid of what he will say.”

Daphne actually rolls her eyes at this. Justin can be extremely thick-headed when he wants to. Can’t he see, that Brian would gladly let him pull out his teeth one by one if Justin simply asks him? Hell, he would give Justin the permission to pull his tongue out and carve out his heart as well. 

“He would probably say nothing, kiss you, fuck you until you pass out, then kiss you some more to express what he feels. He always does, that way you know what you mean to him. What you’ve always meant.”

Justin stares at right for a bit before throwing a dirty rag at her, which landed on her shoulder. She picks it up gingerly, gives it a disgusted look before raising an eyebrow at Justin.

“Fuck off, you’re trying too hard to make me tell him the truth. Just a couple more days and I’ll be done. Maybe I’ll tell him some time next week, if that pleases Your Majesty.”

“Shit, you still see right through me. Don’t go home too late, he’ll be pissed at me again and then I’ll have to lie. I’m really bad at it,” she laughs. She leans in to kiss Justin on the check and makes her way out of the room, leaving Justin only with the scent of her lavender perfume.

* * *

On Thursday, Brian is out getting himself some coffee and a bagel, since he’s a little hungry, when he sees a familiar figure from the corner of his eyes, entering a restaurant across the street.

He fetches his phone from his pocket and dials her number.

“Hey, you with Justin?” He asks, watching Daphne from the other side of the road. Daphne puts a hand up towards her companion, a brunette, who’s talking to her animately before stopping, looking confused and rather annoyed that her speech is being interrupted.

“Hello to you too, Brian. Yes, I am.”

_Then where the fuck is he, Daphne?_ Brian almost says, but he opts for the more sane reply.

“Can I talk to him?”

Maybe it’s a coincidence that when he asked Justin this morning what he’s going to do today, he had answered that he’ll be spending the day with Daphne, since it’s first her day off in a couple of weeks. Maybe they did get together and have since then went their separate ways. Maybe Justin has to meet with that gallery owner again.

“He’s actually in the toilet. We’re at a coffee shop across town. His phone died earlier and he stupidly did not bring a charger with him. Do you want me to take a message for you?”

“Just tell him to call me back as soon as possible, yeah?” Brian doesn’t say anything more, afraid that his voice will break at any attempt to do so.

“Sure thing, Brian.” Daphne replies cheerfully before hanging up.

Brian should get up and leave, go back to work. He knows this. He knows Justin wouldn’t lie, and that he’ll come out of the toilet and join Daphne any time soon. But for whatever reason, his brain keeps nagging at him to stay, and he does. Half an hour later, when Brian sees Daphne getting up and leaving the restaurant with her friend and without a certain blonde, his stomach drops. 

* * *

 

“Whatssup, Bri?” Michael greets him as he slides inside the booth, across from Brian.

“Where’s the Professor?” Brian says, leaning across the table to kiss Michael on the mouth.

“Grading papers. Same old, same old. Justin?” he grins, looks around and waits for the golden mop of hair to show up. 

Michael initially thought that Justin and Brian was inseparable during the first years of their relationship with Justin following Brian practically everywhere including the men’s room. However, compared to the attachment to each other’s hips they seem to have right now, that was nothing. Seeing Brian eating dinner without Justin around is unusual, at the very least.

“I often ask myself the same question nowadays.”

That statement definitely caught Michael’s attention. He snaps his head back to Brian, looking confused.

“Huh? What does that mean?”

Brian contemplates telling Michael for fear of getting called a pussy because he’s actually worrying if Justin’s fucking someone else, but he has to talk to someone before the feeling overwhelms him and ends up drowning him. So he takes a deep breath and starts again.

“It means, I think he’s seeing someone else.” There now, he’s said the truth.

“Ha! Nice try, Brian. What does that mean, really? Did you guys fight again? What did you do this time?”

Jesus, why does everyone always think Brian’s the big bad wolf in this particular setting?

“Why does it have to be me fucking things up? I did nothing. Him, on the other hand, he’s been coming home late, lying to me, sneaking around.”

Michael puts his hand up, signalling him to stop. 

“Okay, can you tell me what happen before you ask me to side with you?”

“You’re free to choose his side if you want.”

“I think you wouldn’t have call me if you didn’t want someone on your team.”

Michael has always been the voice of reason, and so Brian tells him the story. Michael listens to him attentively and took a whole minute sipping his coffee while processing the new information before giving Brian his opinion on the matter.

“I don’t know.. You might just be reading too much into it. He loves you too much to do any damage to your relationship and he seems really happy with where you guys are right now. I haven’t seen him since the meeting with our publisher about the next issue of Rage, which was.. Tuesday last week? But it’s kinda hard to miss the way he visibly lights up every time you come to dinner at Ma’s late because you work too hard. Also kinda hard to miss the way he rubs your shoulder when you come all stressed out, acting disgustingly loving like a wife.”

“He left me twice, Michael. For someone else, on one occasion,” he said quietly. Michael looks startled at his reply, though he composes himself quickly.

“You also did let him leave. Both instances were not one-sided. Anyway, you’re not that guy anymore, you grew up. He’s also not that kid anymore. It’s been so many years, Brian.”

Well, Michael’s a great help.

“I was not and am not going to hold him back from doing what he wants to do. It was his decision where he wanted to be, and it still is.”

Michael rolls his eyes before replying, “Then you better remember that when he comes home to you every night, he consciously makes that decision. Go home, Brian, and talk to him.”

* * *

 

Justin chooses to take Daphne’s advice from a couple of days ago and goes home earlier tonight. His phone died and he’s not the type to wear watches, so he couldn’t exactly tell what time it is. The still ongoing traffic tells him it’s not 11PM yet. He walks a little slower, a bit happier. After all, he has finally finished his work. He should tell Diane about it being finished, but not before tomorrow. Not before coming home to Brian and let himself be held tonight. 

He unlocks the loft’s door and slides it open, shrugging off his coat. A silhouette looms on the barcalounger in the living room area, scaring Justin for a split second that a gasp escapes him before he can stop it, before he realises that it’s just Brian. Brian, looking like a ghost from the Christmas Carol, but still Brian.

“Shit, Brian. You scared me,” he smiles and makes his way to him, “What are you doing?”

“Scared you? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re sitting in the dark with barely any illumination but the lights from the building across the street at night, not making any noise to indicate that you’re human. You might as well be a shadow.” 

He moves to sit himself on Brian’s lap, but doesn’t get the chance when Brian gets up and immediately starts pacing across the dark room. Justin frowns, he wants to be close to Brian right now, but he waits patiently for Brian’s reply, wanting to know what’s the problem this time around.

“The way you’ve been treating me recently, I might as well be.”

His eyes widened instantly, trying to catch Brian eyes, though his partner seems to be doing all he can to avoid it. The answer Brian gave just now is definitely not the answer Justin was expecting. He had expected more of, _that goddamn Riley is good for nothing, I swear!_ followed by a dictionary vomit of curse words. He’s still in the middle of processing what Brian might have meant by that, when Brian asks him a question.

“Are you fucking someone else?”

That really snaps Justin out of it. What the hell? Where did that come from?

“What the fuck, Brian. We’re doing it raw! You seriously think I would do that to you? You’re on a whole new level of ridiculous right now!”

Justin tries to figure out where they went wrong this time, what he might have done to trigger this outburst out of Brian. As far as he can remember, nothing happened. They were even fine this morning, so what occurred since then that got these twisted ideas in Brian’s head? He’s pissed and hurt at the same time, because how can Brian accused him of doing _that_ , after all the effort it took to get them where they are now in the first place.

“Then it’s worse than I thought, isn’t it?” Brian said bitterly.

“How could it be any worse than what you just said?!” 

Justin instantly regrets shouting as Brian flinches away from him, so he takes a step forward but Brian moves all the way across the room and into the bedroom, effectively distancing himself from Justin. He wants to go after Brian, but even the atmosphere in the room tells him not to. Brian comes back out not a minute after, his voice tired and tears, _actual tears,_ threatening to spill from his eyes. Justin wants nothing but to kiss it all away if only Brian would let him.

“If you’re not fucking him, then you’re dating him. The whole romantic shit. What you’ve always wanted but I refuse to give to you. Picnics? Flowers? Are we back to that? Declarations of love? What does he do this time? Play the harp? At least tell me it’s still a he.”

“Ok, that’s enough. Romantic shit? Brian, you are giving me romantic shit, even when you say otherwise. Making me breakfast in bed when you know I’m worn out? Here’s a notice to you, Mr. Kinney, that is called being romantic! Fuck, letting me be inside you is romantic for us! We were never conventional about these things. What the fuck?”

He can’t believe what he’s actually hearing from Brian. What drugs did he take now? This really isn’t the kind of conversation they should be having after so many years together. His heart crumpled a little bit knowing that he’s the one who put that pressure on Brian, the one which makes him think that he’s required to be who he isn’t. He won’t admit it himself, but Brian’s scared shitless of experiencing yet another fiddler fiasco. Justin tries to move closer once more, though apparently, Brian’s not done yet.

“Just.. just tell me the truth and get it over with, Justin. Just say, ‘The truth is, I’ve met someone else.’ Break it off clean with me right now, no hard feelings, then you go do what makes you happy and I’ll.. I’ll go do the same. What’s fucking unfair and cruel is stringing me along like you’re happy and content to be with me when I know that I’m not the one putting that expression on your face! Fuck, the last couple of days you’ve been happier than ever.. and I had nothing to do with it.”

Justin grabs Brian’s hand and forces him to sit down on the sofa, surprised when Brian is letting himself be manhandled. He notices the slight tremble on Brian’s hand, which he immediately clenches into a fist when he notices that Justin is staring at it. Justin sits himself on Brian’s lap, takes his lover’s hands into his own and talks slowly.

“Honestly, what the fuck are you on? If I’m happy, it’s because of you. It’s because of us. No hard feelings? You’ve had one too many of those things, whatever it is.”

Brian yanks his hand and looks away. Justin puts his on Brian’s neck, moving them up and down in an attempt to soothe him, tucking Brian’s hair behind his ear. Brian’s answer came with all the bitterness and coldness he’s got, even when he knows Brian doesn’t mean any of it, the words still sting Justin all the same.

“I’m fucking sober! What I have had enough of, is you bullshitting me right to my face, lying to me about where you are and who you’re with. What I have had enough of, is this relationship. It’s a farce, Justin."

“You don’t really mean that. You’re upset. Brian, I love you,” he says softly. He kisses the crook of Brian’s neck, feels Brian’s body relaxing under his, and they both know that all of Brian’s arguments goes out the window then. Brian, though, seems like he wants to challenge this knowledge, not ready to lose just yet.

“Yes, I do! Now tell me where the fuck you’ve been all this time because now I know for sure you’re not spending time with Daphne. Oh, don’t forget tell her I say fuck you and she can go to hell while you’re at it.”

Daphne? What does Daphne has to do with anything? She hasn’t said anything about Brian since that time he called her to ask about Justin. Justin pulls back from his position on Brian’s neck and looks at him.

“What, did she cheat on you and lie to you as well?”

Brian’s giving him a dead stare, which would have make Justin fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness, if not for the fact that Brian’s still letting Justin touch him. He knows he’s slowly being forgiven, what ever his fault was.

“No, she just helps you do those things to me, doesn’t she? The little right-hand woman. I call her to ask where you were and she lied to me, didn’t know I was watching her from around the corner. Told me you were there with her, that you were in the toilet. ‘ _Can I take a message for you, Brian?’_ Who does she think she is? Then, then I saw her leave. But you weren’t there, you weren’t even close, were you? Not unless you turn into a girl with long, brown hair. So tell me, where have you been? I think I deserve at least an explanation before we end this.”

That’s when it all clicked for Justin. He removes himself from Brian’s lap and doubles over across the sofa, his legs still on top of Brian’s thighs. Of fucking course, Brian’s somehow just found out that Justin hasn’t been honest with his whereabouts lately and reacts accordingly to his operating manual. Rage, check. Hurtful words, check. Trying to sabotage their relationship, check. Justin can’t stop laughing at the revelation while Brian pushes his legs off and stands up, demanding an explanation.

“Why the fuck are you laughing. Justin. Justin!”

Justin rights himself and tells Brian, “We’re not ending this. _This_ will only end when I say so. And I don’t say so right now, or ever. What I do say is that you need to take a walk. With me. A couple blocks and then back, just to clear your head. What I do say is that we’re going now. Take your coat.”

Brian looks at him like’s completely off his mind, which is actually not far from the truth. Justin’s feeling very relieved that there’s nothing to the argument they just had that he should be worried about that it’s hard to keep the grin off his face.

“I’m not going on a walk with you in the middle of the night when you can’t even look me in the eye and tell me what’s going on.”

“Brian, I mean it. Let’s go,” Justin moves towards the door and hauls Brian along with him, out of the loft. He walks toward his makeshift studio with Brian following closely behind. 

* * *

“Is.. this the side project?” Brian asks.

He’s studying the details of the 12 medium-sized panels laid out to form a bigger picture Justin has just presented him with. The painting of himself, dressed in a black tux, with a particular scarf drenched in blood in his hand and a haunted look in his eyes. The background is smoky and dark with flashes of red light that he guesses come from the ambulance. He would be lying if he said this didn’t bring him some memories and pain he’d rather have locked in a safe, but he’s not that foolish to miss the fact that this is, by far, the most beautiful work of Justin’s.

“Yes and no. Well, it is what I’ve been working on for about two months now, but it’s not really a side project, as you can see.”

Brian knows Justin is fidgeting, shifting his footing back and forth subconsciously, waiting for his explicit approval for the work. If Justin can make him go crazy and get away with it, he can certainly wait a few more moments before hearing just how proud Brian is of him.

“Is it dry?”

“The panels on the bottom, yes. The row on top I just finished today, so.”

Brian crouches in front the panels and traces his finger across the canvas, intentionally not saying anything else just to make Justin squirm. He decides to give it a minute, but even before the sixty seconds are up, Justin breaks.

“Well? Are you going to say anything?” he sounds hopeful, but Brian doesn’t want to give up just yet although he’s ecstatic that this was all Justin’s been hiding from him. 

“How much are you paying for this shithole?” he says instead.

“Just enough.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Is this because I told you off so many times about painting in the loft? That’s just me giving you shit, Justin. I didn’t really mind that you’ve made the place a home because it becomes more than just a living quarter for me with you there.”

Justin smiles at the words, moves behind him and puts his arms around Brian’s waist, propping his head on the broad shoulders.

“No, not really. I needed space, also I couldn’t exactly draw these panels in the loft. You would’ve noticed.”

“Space is exactly what you’re not getting here,” he argues.

“If I told you, you would have insist that we pay for it together, which means you’re paying for me again because it’s basically your money though you like to call it ours. Then I would’ve said no, you would kiss my arguments away and I’ll end up with high-end studio smack in the middle of the city, far away from home. You’d come over all the time which means I wouldn’t be able to hide anything from you.”

Brian turns around and hugs Justin back, who sighs happily in his embrace.

“You shouldn’t hide anything from me under any circumstances. Why didn’t you just tell me? You had me running in circles and constantly worrying about who you’re with and why you’re so happy all the goddamn time. You had me thinking that all the wishes I made for you to be content and for you to get what you want is coming true, but the person that’s going to experience it with you is not me. Damn it, Justin,” he buries his head on Justin’s neck.

“I didn’t know what you’ll say to all of this and I really wanted to finish it. For myself. I did it before letting you see it because if you have any objections, then I wouldn’t put it up for the showing, but at least I’ve finished it and accept that part of my life not as a curse but a blessing in disguise, a part that I had to live through to get here. Hypothetically, if I had told you this beforehand, what would you do?”

Brian pulls back and looks at Justin before replying, “Hypothetically, I would’ve kissed you and said, ‘Why the fuck aren’t they calling you Picasso yet?’ and then, if you’re lucky, proceed to fuck you on this floor right here.”

“Really?”

“Justin, you’re a genius. Learn how to take a compliment.”

“I mean about fucking me on the floor. I thought you would deem it too unhygienic for your bare skin to touch. As far as compliments go, I do, I take them all the time from other artists, my former professors, people I met on the gallery, but yours will always take priority, it will always trump all the others’. Even if they hate my work, as long as you don’t, I’m all good. That’s how much you mean to me. You know this.”

“I do now,” Brian nods.

“You did before, too. So why’d you say all those things?”

Justin doesn’t want to ask, except that he has to. He wants them to never have any argument resembling the one they just had, because he’s not sure he can survive another. They might as well talk it out right now and resolve everything. 

“I was insecure and at the same time going crazy at the thought of someone else getting a taste of my own personal heaven.”

Justin just can’t help it when his facial muscles move to form a smile on his face. 

“I was actually expecting you to say something like, ‘Because I’m a dick.’ and be done with it. I would’ve been okay with that. Heck, I understand where you’re coming from.”

“You shouldn’t understand. I should’ve never questioned you, this, in the first place. It’s just sometimes I realise how beautiful and strong you are and ask myself what the hell are you doing with me.”

“It’s probably because I love you.”

Brian puts their foreheads together and replies, “Yeah, I know. Sometimes it takes me a little longer to remember.”

“It’s okay,” Justin kisses him.

“I’m sorry.” 

“I think now this conversation is backwards. Sorry’s-“

“Bullshit. I’ve taught you well.”

“You’ve taught me everything.”

“You can use this. On your show.”

“Are you sure?”

Brian nods. “It’s your masterpiece. It’s for your artistic integrity, you’re obligated to share it with the world. The pain, the beauty, what comes out of it. It’s your achievement, it’s your way of saying they tried to bring you down, yet you survived. You survived beautifully.” Justin feels like he never loves Brian more than he does at that moment, except maybe when he agrees to marry him in Britin.

“It’s also your face,” Justin points out.

“And my body. And my suit. And that bloody goddamn scarf I still haven’t washed and keep in a vacuum plastic container. And your panels, your painting. We all deal with it in a different way, I won’t be the one to deny you yours. You should have your outlet, and if this is it, then I support you.”

“I must say you look rather handsome in this panel,” he says as he moves to touch it.

“I think that the artist had a lot of opportunities to study the subject before painting this, but the features are all true to reality, not even the slightest exaggeration. Why did you do it in panels anyway? One canvas would achieve the same effect.”

“In my mind, the subject was in pieces during all of this. Painting him in a composed, whole setting didn’t sit well with my artistic integrity. You look nice both way, but like this the expression is more prominent because it stands by itself, not just a fragment in a large canvas,” he turns to look at Brian and is met with a look that says, _you’re absolutely right, I was in pieces, pieces I haven’t completely put back together just yet, because sometimes I dream of that hospital, that alley I sit in for three days waiting to see whether you’re coming out alive or not._  

Brian being Brian, he doesn’t say it out loud, so instead he says, “Thank fuck for you artistic integrity, then. I look like a demigod in this.” 

Justin snorts. What is it with this man and his constant need to have his ego brushed? 

“Stop flattering yourself.”

“Then stop selling me short.”

“There’s nothing short about you, Brian,” he smirks suggestively as he says this, which Brian takes as a cue to cup his hands on the back of Justin’s neck and licks his way into his partner’s mouth. When they resurface for air a couple of minutes later, Brian is looking at Justin strangely, to which Justin’s only reply is to pull him right back into his personal space and not let go.

Brian whispers in his ear then, “Justin? Me too.”

“Me too, what?” he asks, even though he has a pretty good idea what Brian means by that. If he wants to hear it out loud once in awhile, so what?

“I love you, too.”

Brian says it loud and clear, he says it like a challenge, he says it like he’s ready to jump into a fight in case the world wants to stop him from doing it, from feeling it.

“I didn’t say anything, though.” 

Brian extracts himself from Justin’s hug and smiles. Justin returns it, feeling a familiar warmth that he always gets when Brian smiles at him expanding inside his chest.

“Isn’t a drawing worth a thousand words?”

As Brian tugs him down and make good on his words to fuck Justin on the floor, Justin can’t help but smile at the thought that once again, Daphne is right.

 


End file.
